Whirlpools

"In the same way you might fall in love with Saint Cecilia," said Dolhanski. "My cousin is not a woman on two feet, but a symbol."

And he stopped abruptly for he heard some voices coming from the depth of the forest and he sped his horse towards them.

"Nevertheless this clubman does not carry his soul on his shoulder," thought the doctor.

But it was only a false alarm, as it was merely village boys tending cattle. The doctor, who alighted from the britzka to rush to Dolhanski's assistance in case of need, soon saw them among the forest thickets. After a while Dolhanski reappeared and pressing on his eye the monocle which some twigs had displaced, said:

"That is only an innocent rural picture; cowherds and cows trespassing in other people's forests; nothing more."

After which he bade the doctor adieu and returned to the house.

Miss Anney had not yet retired to sleep, for he found her conversing with Gronski and engaged in winding iodoform gauze. At the sight of him, she raised her eyes from her work and asked:

"Anything new in the forest?"

"Yes, indeed; something has happened to the doctor. He has been shot."

At this, both suddenly rose, startled:

"What? Where? In the forest?"

"No! In Jastrzeb," answered Dolhanski.

III

Ladislaus complied in every particular with Miss Anney's injunctions for, immediately after she left, he dozed again and did not waken until the rays of the sun, which had ascended high in the heaven, fell on his head. He then knit his brows and, having partly shaken off his drowsiness, requested that the roller-blinds be lowered. The black-haired maid approached the window, wishing to lower them, but as she did this too eagerly and did not retain her hold on the string, the roller-blind dropped so suddenly that it loosened completely from the fastenings and tumbled down on the window sill. Then the maid, ashamed of her awkwardness, leaped upon the chair and from the chair to the sill and began to place anew the rollers in the rings. Krzycki looked at her bent form; at her upraised arms and at her black coiled hair, with a not yet conscious gaze, blinking his eyes as if he could not recall for the time being who that was; and not until she jumped from the frame, displaying at the same time graceful and plump limbs in black stockings, did he know who was before him; and he said:

"Ah! It is Panna Pauly."

"It is I," answered the girl. "I beg your pardon for making so much noise."

She blushed like a rose under his glance, and he recollected how he once saw her attired only in azure watery pearls; so he gazed at her with greater curiosity and said:

"That does not matter. I thank you, little Miss, for your solicitude."

At the same time, as a sign of gratitude, he moved the hand lying on the bed-quilt but feeling simultaneously a piercing pain, he made a wry face and hissed.

And she sat on the edge of the bed, leaned over him, and asked with intense anxiety:

"Does it pain?"

"It does."

"Can I hand you anything? Shall I call any one?"

"No, no."

For a certain time, silence followed. Ladislaus frowned and clinched his teeth; after which, drawing a deep breath, he said, as if with a certain rage:

"This was done for me by those scoundrels."

"Oh, if they only fell into my hands," she replied through her set teeth.

Such a fathomless hatred glistened in her eyes and her entire countenance assumed such an expression of cruelty, that it might serve as a model for a Gorgon face. Ladislaus was so astonished at this sight that he forgot about his pain.

Again silence ensued. The maid recollected herself after a while, but her cheeks grew so pale that the dark down above her lips became more marked:

She then asked: "What can I do to relieve you?"

Her voice now rang with such cordial solicitude that Ladislaus smiled and answered:

"Nothing, unless it be to commiserate with me."

And in a moment she was transported with spasmodic grief; she flung her face at his feet, and, embracing them with her arms, began to kiss them through the quilt. Her raven-like head and bent body shook from sobbing.

"Why little lady! Panna Pauly!" cried Ladislaus.

And he was compelled to repeat this several times before she heard him. Finally she rose and, covering her eyes with her hands, went to the window, pressed her face against the pane, and for some time remained motionless. Afterwards she began to wipe her eyes and readjust her hair, as if in fear that somebody, entering unexpectedly, might surmise what had taken place.

In the meantime, all the moments in which he had come in contact with her coursed through Ladislaus' mind, commencing with meeting her on the dark path, when she told him that a were-wolf did not look like that, and the vision in the bath-room, until his conversation with her, after that vision, on the yoked elm grove near the pond. He recalled how from that time she alternately reddened and grew pale at the sight of him; how she drooped her eyes and how she sent them after him whenever it seemed to her that he was not observing. From one view, Ladislaus accepted this as the sequel of the incident in the bath-room; from another as admiration for his shapeliness. This admiration, indeed, flattered his masculine vanity, but he did not give it much thought, as, having his mind absorbed with Miss Anney, her servant did not concern him. Now, however, he understood that this was something more than the blandishments of an artful chambermaid after a handsome young heir, and that this maiden had become distractedly infatuated with him and in a kind of morbid manner. His love for Miss Anney was too deep and true for him to be pleased with such a state of affairs or for him to think that after his wounds were healed he could take advantage of the maiden's feelings in the fashion of a gallant. On the contrary, the thought that he had unwittingly aroused such feelings appeared disagreeable and irksome to him. He was seized by a fear of what might result from it. There came to him, as if in a vision, troubles, scenes, and entanglements, which such a passion might produce. He understood that this was a fire with which he could not thoughtlessly play; that he would have to be careful and not give her any encouragement. He decided also, notwithstanding the pity and sympathy he felt in the depth of his heart for the maiden, to avoid in the future all conversations, all jests, and everything which might draw her nearer to him, encourage intimacy, or provoke in the future outbursts similar to the one of that day. It even occurred to him to request Miss Anney not to send her to him any more, but he abandoned that resolution, observing that it might cause sorrow or cast upon him a shadow of ludicrousness. Finally he came to the conclusion that above all it was incumbent upon him not to ask the maid about anything; not to demand any explanation as to the meaning of that outbreak and those tears, and to behave coolly and distantly.

In the meantime the maiden, at the window, having regained her composure, again approached the bed and spoke in a meek and hesitating voice:

"I beg your pardon, sir. Be not angry at me, sir."

He closed his eyes and only after an interval replied:

"Little lady, I am not angry, but I need peace."

"I beg pardon," she repeated yet more meekly.

However she observed that he spoke in a different tone, drier and colder than previously, and intense uncertainty was depicted upon her countenance, for she did not know whether this was the momentary dissatisfaction of the patient, who, in reality, did desire quiet or whether it was the displeasure of the young heir at her-a servant maid-having dared to betray her feelings. Fearing, however, to again offend him, she became silent and seating herself upon the chair which Miss Anney had occupied, she took from the commode the work which previously had been brought and began to sew, glancing from time to time with great uneasiness, and as if in fear, at Ladislaus. He also cast stealthy glances at her, and seeing her regular features, as if carved out of stone, her sharply outlined brows, the dark down above her lips, and the energetic, almost inflexible, expression of her face, he thought that it would be much easier for a man who could arouse the thoughts and feelings of such a girl to form various ties than later to be able to free himself from them.

IV

Contrary to expectations, the doctor did not arrive that day, owing to an unusual number of engagements and a few important operations which he was compelled to perform without delay. Instead, he sent a young hospital attendant, skilled in dressing wounds, with a letter in which he requested Gronski to inform the ladies that they should consider his postponed visit as proof that no danger actually threatened the wounded man. Ladislaus, however was not pleased with this news, for the wounds tormented him acutely; particularly the flesh torn by the bullet along the ribs afflicted him painfully; and besides, his mother felt worse. The asthmatic spell recurred, after which a general weakness followed, so that notwithstanding her warmest wishes she was not able to rise from her bed. Pani Otocka did not leave her for the entire day, and at night her place was to be taken by Miss Anney, who, however, needing rest after the recent events and, passing a sleepless night, was sent to sleep by both sisters and Gronski. The rôle of the housekeeper of Jastrzeb was assumed by Marynia, for she wanted by all means to be useful, and was not permitted to attend to the patients. Instead, she was intrusted with all the keys; the management of the house; with conferring and taking an accounting with the cook whom she feared a little and did not like, because he looked upon her as if she was a child who was amusing herself rather than one upon whose shoulders rested the responsibility of superintending everything. She adopted a mien full of importance, but nevertheless "the dear gentleman," that is Gronski, had to promise that he would be present, as if by chance, in the room when the accounting was taking place.

As, after the arrival of the doctor on the third day, it appeared that Ladislaus' condition was quite favorable and Pani Krzycki's asthmatic spells were leaving her and her nerves were getting in order, the general aspect of Jastrzeb became calmer and happier. Dolhanski began to fill with a certain humor the rôle of a generalissimo of all the armed forces of Jastrzeb while Gronski played the part of military governor. The doctor brought with him a second nurse, who thenceforth was to alternate with the one who came previously. This relieved the ladies of the house of the necessity of continual watchfulness and unnecessary fatigue. Ladislaus alone was dissatisfied with the arrangement, for he understood that now Miss Anney would not pass days and nights in his chamber, and that in all probability he would not see her until he was able to leave his bed. In fact, it happened that way. Several times during the day she would come to the anteroom, send through the attendants whatever was needed, inquire about his health and also send a "good-night" or "good-day" but would not enter the room. Ladislaus sighed, swore quietly, and made life miserable for his attendants, and when he learned from Dolhanski of the enthusiasm with which the doctor spoke of Miss Anney he began to suspect him of purposely sending the attendants in order to make it more difficult for him to see her. His mother rose the fourth day and, feeling much better, visited him daily and sat up with him for hours. Ladislaus often asked himself the question whether she surmised his feelings. They were indeed known to all the guests in the house, but there was a possibility that she did not suspect anything, as for a considerable time before the occurrence in the forest she did not, in truth, leave her room; in consequence of which she seldom saw her son and Miss Anney together. Krzycki often deliberated over the question whether he should speak with his mother at once about it or defer the matter to a later date. In favor of the first thought, there was the consideration that his mother, while he lay in bed wounded, would not dare to interpose any strenuous objections from fear that his condition might grow worse. But on the other hand, such calculation, in which his beloved one and the whole happiness of his life were involved, appeared to him that day as miserable craftiness. He thought besides that to extort an assent from his mother through his sickness would be something derogatory to Miss Anney, before whom the doors of the Jastrzeb manor-house and the arms of the entire family should be widely and joyfully opened. But he was restrained by another consideration. And this was that, notwithstanding the conversation he at one time had with Gronski, notwithstanding the words he exchanged with the lady, notwithstanding her solicitude, her sacrifices, and the courage with which she did not hesitate to drive for the doctor, and finally notwithstanding the visible marks of feeling which could be discerned in every glance she bestowed upon him, Ladislaus doubted and did not dare to believe in his own good fortune. He was young, inexperienced, in love not only up to his ears but like a student; therefore full of alternating uncertainties, hopes, joys, and doubts. He doubted also himself. At times he felt at his shoulders wings, as it were, and in his soul a desire for lofty flights; a latent ability to perform acts clearly heroic; and at other times he thought: "Who am I, that such a flower should fall upon my bosom? There are people who are endowed with talent; who possess education; and others who have millions, and I, what? I am a mere nobleman farmer, who will all his life dig the soil, like a mole. Have I then the right to pinion to such a life, or rather to confine in a sort of cage such a paradisiacal bird, which soars freely across the firmament for the delectation and admiration of mankind?" And he was seized by despair. But when he pictured to himself that the moment might arrive when this paradisiacal bird might fly away forever from him, then he looked upon it with amazement as if upon a calamity which he did not deserve. He also had his hours of hope, especially in the morning when he felt better and stronger. Then he recalled everything that had taken place between them, from her first arrival at Jastrzeb and his meeting her at Zarnowski's funeral until that last night when he pressed her hand to his lips and gained greater confidence. Why, at that time, she told him "not a word about anything until the wounds are healed." Therefore through that alone she gave to him the right to repeat to her that she was dearer to him than the whole world and to surrender into her hands his fate, his future, and his entire life. Let her do with them what she will.

In the meanwhile his mother will accustom herself to her, will grow more intimate, and become more attached to her. And her maternal heart is so full of admiration and gratitude for what Miss Anney had done for him that from her lips fell the words "God sent her here." Ladislaus smiled at the thought that his mother, however, ascribed the sacrifices and courage of the young maiden not to any ardent feeling but to an exceptionally honest heart, as well as to English training, which was conducive to energy alike in men and women. And she had likewise repeated to Pani Otocka several times that she would like to bring up her Anusia to be such a brave woman; give her such strength, health, and such love for her "fellow-men." Pani Otocka smiled also, hearing these praises, and Ladislaus thought that Miss Anney perhaps would not have done the same for her fellow-men, and this thought filled him with happiness.

Eventually he became quite certain that his mother would consent to his marriage with Miss Anney, but he was anxious as to how she would agree. And in this regard he was much distressed. His mother, judged by former requirements and conceptions, was a person of more than medium education. She possessed high social refinement, read a number of books, and was proficient in the French and Italian languages. During her younger days she passed considerable time abroad, but only her closest friends could tell how many national and hereditary prejudices were concealed in her and to what extent all that was not Polish, particularly if it did not of necessity come from France, appeared to her peculiar, outlandish, strange, and even shocking. This appeared accidentally once before the attack upon Ladislaus when she saw Miss Anney's English prayer-book and, opening it, noticed a prayer beginning with "Oh Lord." Belonging to a generation which did not study English, and having lived in retirement for many years in Jastrzeb, Pani Krzycki could not imagine the Lord other than a being with yellow whiskers, dressed in checkered clothes, and to Marynia's great amusement could not by any means understand how the Divinity could be thus addressed. In vain Ladislaus explained to her that in the French and Polish languages analogical titles are given to God. She regarded that as something different, and exacted a promise from Miss Anney that she would pray from a Polish book, which she promised to buy for her.

Finally the fact that Miss Anney was not in all probability a member of the nobility would play an important part. Ladislaus feared that his mother, having consented to the marriage, might in the depths and secrecy of her soul, deem it a mésalliance. This thought irritated and depressed him immeasurably and was one of the reasons why he postponed his consultation with his mother until their arrival in Warsaw.

He was angered yet more at his enforced confinement in his bed; so that for three days he declared each evening that he would rise the following morning, and when on the fourth day Miss Anney and Marynia said to him through the doorway, "Good-day," he actually did get up, but in his weakened condition, he suffered from dizziness and was forced to lie down again. He was steadily improving, however; he continued to sigh more and more and felt his inactivity most keenly.

"I have got enough of this loquacious doctor," he said to Gronski, "enough of dressings and iodoform. I envy not only you, sir, but even Dolhanski, who is roaming about on my horses all over creation, and very likely reaches as far as Gorek."

"He does," answered Gronski gayly, "and this leads me to think that he makes a mystery of it, for he has ceased to talk about those ladies."

This was but a half truth for Dolhanski did actually go to Gorek but did not remain entirely silent about the ladies, for returning the next day, he entered Ladislaus' room, bearing with him still the odor of the horse, and said:

"Imagine to yourself that the Wlocek ladies received a command from some kind of committee from under a dark star to pay under the penalty of death one thousand roubles for 'party' purposes."

"There you have it!" cried Gronski. "Now that is becoming an every-day occurrence. Who knows whether similar commands are not awaiting us upon our desks in Warsaw?"

"Well, what of it?" asked Ladislaus.

"Nothing," answered Dolhanski; "those ladies first argued as to who was to first expose her breast to shield the other; then fainted; after that they came to, then began to bid each other farewell, and finally asked me my advice as to what was to be done."

"And what advice did you give them?"

"I advised them to tell the executors of the command, who would come for the money, that their plenipotentiary and treasurer, Pan Dolhanski, resided at such and such address in Warsaw."

"Really, did you advise them to do that?"

"I give you my word."

"In such a case, they will undoubtedly call upon you."

"You can imagine what rich booty they will get! I also will have some recreation in these tedious times."

"Pardon me," said Gronski, "the times are trying; that is certain, but no one can say that they are tedious."

"But for whom?" answered Dolhanski. "If I ever borrow money from you, then I will have to conform to your inclination, but before that time you cannot draw me into any political discussion. In the meantime I will only tell you this much, that I am the only social microbe that can remain at perfect peace. All that I require is that 'bridge' should be going normally at the club and soon this will be impossible. These times may be interesting to you but not for me."

"At any rate," observed Gronski, "a certain ventilation of torpid conditions is taking place, and since you compared yourself to a microbe, by the same token, you admit that these are times for disinfection."

At this Dolhanski turned to Ladislaus.

"Thank Gronski," he said, "for the disinfection started with you; from which the plain inference is to be drawn that you are a more harmful microbe than I am."

"Get married, get married," answered Ladislaus banteringly; "for you, a good marriage settlement would be the best cure for pessimism."

"That may be possible, as in that case, I may have something with which I can leave this dear country and settle elsewhere. I once told you that Providence speaks through the lips of little innocents. But I should have thought of marriage when in the perspective there were no Goreks, but instead, four million franks."

"Did you have such an opportunity?"

"As you see me here. It happened in Ostend; an old Belgian relict of a manufacturer of preserves, and having cash to the amount specified, wanted to marry me and that for the waiting."

"And what?"

"And nothing. I remember what Pan Birkowski, who at that time was in Ostend, told me. 'Do business,' he said. 'At the worst, you may leave the old woman two millions and leave her in the lurch, and you can take two millions with you and enjoy yourself like a king.'"

"And what did you say to that?"

"And I said this to that: What is that? Am I to give from my own hard-earned money two millions to an ugly old woman? For nothing! And now I think that for a mere quibble, I permitted a fortune to slip away from me and that the time may come when owing to a 'retirement from business' I will have to sacrifice myself for a smaller price."

Gronski and Ladislaus began to laugh, but Dolhanski, who spoke with greater bitterness than they supposed, shrugged his shoulders and said:

"Amuse yourselves, amuse yourselves. One of you already has received a taste of the times and the other, God grant, will not escape so easily. Nice times, indeed! Chaos, anarchy, political orgy, lack of any kind of authority, the dance of dynamite with the knout, and the downfall of 'bridge.' And you laugh!"

V

Nevertheless that which Dolhanski said about a want of any kind of authority appeared to be not exactly the truth, for, after an interval of one week, the authorities did give signs of life.

An imposing armed force, together with gendarmes and police, made its appearance.

Of course the perpetrators of the attempt upon Krzycki did not wait a whole week for the arrival at Jastrzeb of a military relief, as they evidently had engagements in other parts of the county. As a result the Jastrzeb, as well as the Rzeslewo, forests appeared to be deserted.

In lieu of this, about a score of men in Jastrzeb, itself, were placed under arrest. Among these were the two forest rangers, the old coachman who was wounded at the time of the attack, and all the workingmen at the sawmill.

In the manor-house all the passports were verified with exceeding care, reports were written, and the host, hostess, and guests, not excluding the ladies, were subjected to a strict examination.

From these examinations it developed that in reality they did not come on account of the attempt upon the proprietor of Jastrzeb, but for the purpose of apprehending a dangerous revolutionist, a certain Laskowicz, who, according to the most reliable information secured by the police, was hiding in Jastrzeb and was shielded by its denizens.

The declaration of the Krzyckis to the police, that in due season the passport of Laskowicz was forwarded, and if Laskowicz had left the city he must have received it, as well as the assurances of all present that Laskowicz was not in Jastrzeb did not find any credence.

The authorities were too experienced and shrewd to believe such nonsense and they detected in them "an evil design, and want of sincerity and cordial candor."

The house also was subjected to a most painstaking search, beginning in the garret and ending in the cellar. They knocked on the walls to ascertain whether there were any secret hiding places. They searched among the dresses and linen of the women; in the hearth, under the divans, in the drawers, in the boxes for phenicine pastilles, which Gronski brought with him; and finally in the manor outbuildings, in the mangers of the stable, in the milk churners, in the tar-boxes, and even in the beehives, whose inmates, undoubtedly being permeated with the evil-disposition prevalent in Jastrzeb, resisted the search in a manner as evil disposed as it was painful.